Stories from a legal drug dealer

Tag Archives: food

My dad flew back to North America recently. It was P’s birthday a few days later. After 6-7 weeks of parental hovering, I was overdue for some fun. I mean, finally, a point where I wasn’t given the third degree on what I was doing, who I was going with, how long I was going to be, queries on why I wasn’t studying….

GOOD GOD I HAVE A PROFESSIONAL DEGREE!!!!!!!!!!!!

I have tried to assert myself beforehand, saying that if I failed this second one, it was on me. After all, I’m paying for it. But my dad has this inexorable persistence. So that left me with one choice when Dad left: spend craploads of time at P’s. I think I overdosed a bit.

We went for Korean for birthday lunch.

Dinner with my workmates, then had waffles for dessert.

For P’s birthday dinner, everyone came over for some champagne and cheese. I know it’s usually wine, but it’s not my birthday. Besides, I got told off for nearly cutting the nose off the cheese. Oops. “Dragged up” was how P put it, teasingly. And then we went for some delicious French food. But I was so full by the main, I couldn’t finish the ratatouille. And this is odd for me. I usually eat everything bar garnish. Hello, I’ve said it before, what’s the point of running if you can’t eat what you want?

The invitations to go for drinks, for dim sum, to hit the running track with a uni mate.. they’re still coming.

I’m realising there’s a certain wisdom to my dad’s strict discipline:

The cost involved is always greater than what you think it is.

Lunch is more than the 2 hours to order. It’s travel time, it’s parking, it’s attention elsewhere. Star Trek Into Darkness this Thursday with P and P’s best mate is going to be more than a 2.5 hour movie. I’m going to be thrilled, my senses heightened… how am I supposed to come down from that and get my game-face on for study? Could I study after? No. That’s why I’m going to see it later at night, then sleep.

I’ve calculated the number of hours I need just to finish my notes (never mind studying them!) and doing my readings. All of a sudden, there’s that much more impetus NOT to go to lunch with my frenemy. I’ll write about that another time.

My dad was right. Dammit, how does this always happen? I can do this, I can say no. They will be there for me after my exams. Delaying gratification! I’m doing better with time management though. I’ve scheduled study for each day for the next 7 weeks till exams are over. I’ve studied from 8 to 6 today, with breaks for lunch and dinner. That schedule still has room for me to have drinks in the city at 9 with uni mates. Don’t make that face, I’m staying for 1 hour and then to bed! Promise.

Stayed up late helping Dad edit and print his affidavit and exhibits, assemble, and post them in duplicate. Got 4 hours of sleep.

Overweight lactose-intolerant floor manager D went home at 1030am with a “migraine”, after leaving at 7 on Wednesday for the same reason. I got my order done, but had too many scripts. When 430pm came for me to leave, Kesh had only just got in from banking.

N, Kesh, Young, V (Pete’s Fijian mate, who was vegetarian, but is now a meat convert) and I went to the Old Brewery on Mounts Bay Road to celebrate Kesh finishing her Viva. I had a rabbit and chorizo terrine with beetroot and apple&cinnamon chutney on little toasts, truffle butter (that had a strong cumin flavour) with toasted slices of bread and one lone poached egg. The cumin flavour actually went quite well with the egg, I was surprised. I also had roasted bone marrow, which was really … well, N described it as “rich”. I also tasted some of their tomahawk, which was really big, with the bone included.

On the way home, half-asleep, I sped through an amber/red on Manning Rd/Ley St, and got pulled over. Fuck.

Why do you think I’m pulling you over?

I actually had to think for a split second as to whether it was speeding, crossing lanes without signalling or running the red. I did all three. That part of the street is a bit tight to take the curves at 60km/h. I barely remember running the red, and didn’t think much of it. Come on, in Toronto this would never happen, there’s better things to worry about. And there was barely anyone on the road. He at least downgraded it to an amber, which meant 100$ instead of 150$ and 2 points instead of 3. Perhaps it was my reason, “I’m just tired and trying to get home.”

I was highly displeased with his reply , “Well, you can’t do that. You might end up in a different kind of bed, a steel one.” He also told me my left tail light was out, which is a bitch because I just had the bumper replaced after JLiang in Unit 1 lent his car to some girl in the units and we reversed into each other (more her fault though, because she was going way too fast and not looking). Life-time warranty on car repairs? It better hold out, or there’ll be strife.

Anyway, after he handed me my ticket, I wanted to specifically run the next few reds because I dislike being told I’m wrong, and I felt like doing something to reject that and say “Fuck you and fuck off.” But they were all green.

Fuck. Great way to end a shit day. It was going to be ok after dinner, but guess not. FUCK.